


Pixie Dust

by IncreasingLight



Series: Lost Boys [5]
Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Earthborn (Mass Effect), F/M, Slow Burn, War Hero (Mass Effect)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:46:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24190774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IncreasingLight/pseuds/IncreasingLight
Summary: Jane was a Lost Boy - the semi-mythical delivery 'boy' for the Tenth Street Reds, until she grew out of the job. Her undeniable ambition and desire to see the stars could only be accomplished one way - turning in her old Boss, and joining the Alliance. Join her on her epic journey through the galaxy, where she will learn to trust in her team and make friends for the first time in her life.And maybe even fall in love.
Relationships: Female Shepard/Garrus Vakarian
Series: Lost Boys [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/905241
Comments: 4
Kudos: 12





	1. Seeking Stars

The young girl sat crouched beneath the awning at the back of the warehouse, staring up at the sky, a well-worn copy of a book at her side. The cover, creased and scuffed, showed a picture of four flying children silhouetted against the moon, and stars above them, two brighter than the rest.

  
She shivered in her inadequate jacket, and huddled closer together, catching her knees and pulling them to her chest. Inside, they still argued, voices raising into the December night as she debated what to do.

  
She couldn’t see the stars from here. London lights never allowed such apparitions. She knew they were there; from the books she stole from posh shops near Piccadilly. The stories got her through her long nights, where the adults quarreled and manipulated, and the memories carried her through the days where she darted from dead drop to delivery like Peter from the novel next to her – too fast for the bobbies to catch a glimpse of her, so slender that she didn’t even seem to have a shadow, sewn on or otherwise.

She was still fast, but today proved that she just wasn’t small enough to make it through the cracks. Today she was scraped from chest to waist in inconvenient, uncomfortable places, places too obvious, even to the oblivious adults meters away. She’d bound herself as flat as possible, hoping to buy a little more time… it had only bought her a couple months. Inside, they were already arguing about her replacement.

For her, time had run out. She had to grow up. Glancing behind her, she heard the voices, not angry any longer, just patient and resigned. “It’s time, boss. We’ll walk her by the Madame’s tomorrow…”

She shuddered; her mind made up in an instant. She stood. The Boss grumbled, incomprehensible, a protest, maybe. She’d been a good one – never late, never had a close call. The Tenth Street Reds had prospered with her. But he, too, sounded worn down.

It was time. She picked up her book and set it inside her jacket, where the lining met the shell.

It was two and a half city blocks to the Alliance office, as the ravens flew. Skirting behind the arcade where she’d spent what little credits she’d pickpocketed off the unwary (using the latest skimming tech) playing ancient vid games, as well as her slim share of the large takes that the Boss had allotted to her. She hadn’t been there in months, squirreling away what she had instead, towards a nebulous (she hoped…) future. She’d planned ahead, with the first sign that her long delayed maturity was finally catching up with her age. She’d taken pains to find out who was investigating the Red Sand distribution within the military organization, a ‘Captain Anderson’. She’d even gotten glimpses of him, as she skirted around corners and spied on the man that might be her savior, if she was brave enough to reach out a hand…

Her heart pounded as she ran into the night alone, towards her goal, between buildings and through gardens, and under hedges, only to let her feet slow, as she approached the building.

It was late, but it was all lit up inside, like the North Star, if you believed in such myths. As a matter of luck, there was the officer she was looking for, smiling and chatting at the guards on duty outside.

Her luck had always been better than most.

She smoothed her hair back behind her ears, and stepped forward, trying to look like she had a right to be there. She almost got through the door.

“Where do you think you’re going?” The guard caught at her.

Her chin went up, as haughty and proud and professional as he was. “I need to speak with Captain Anderson.”

“You do, do you?” The Guard seemed amused. “What for?”

“I have information on the Red Sand dealers he’s looking for.”

“How’d you know about that?!”

“I need to speak to him.” She paused, “Please,” she added in afterthought.

“Now you’re polite?”

“I have this, Simmons,” the man himself said, his voice deep and rich. She turned to face him. “Come inside, Miss…”

“Jane,” she resisted the urge to wipe her nose on the back of her hand, but it would start running now, when she was so nervous, with the dust of a dozen unkempt gardens stuck in her nostrils. “I’m Jane.”

“…Jane, then.” He led her inside, into his office, leaving the door open. Was he afraid she would jump him? “What do you have for me?”

“Have you ever heard of the Lost Boys of Tenth Street?”

Anderson blinked, “We’ve been unable to prove the existence of… you are talking about the Tenth Street Reds, aren’t you?”

“I’m them.”

“…All of them?”

“Not all the Reds, but I’m the Lost Boys part. Until tomorrow, anyway.” She shivered, remembering the threats. “I grew up, see? I have to leave. I don’t fit anymore between the buildings, and the smaller trees bend under my weight. It’s the corners for me now, selling dust or myself, one way or another, unless…” Suddenly shy, she glanced sideways at him. “Got coffee? I need to chase a chill from my bones. You can tell it’s December.”

“Aren’t you a little young for coffee?”

Was a hot drink too much to ask? She scowled at him. “Want the info or not?”

“By all means, then.” He poured her a hot something – and she cradled it, ignoring the cream and sweetener before her. The steam rose like pixie dust into the cool dry air of the office. Smelling it, she could almost fly. The words came fast, and faster.

“I know everything. Dead drops, dealers, buyers. I make them all, take the payments, give ‘em back to the Boss. I can lead you right to him if you’re interested. Ten years of knowledge, all bundled up for you.”

Anderson swallowed. “Can you write them down for me, Miss Jane?”

“Sure,” she smiled, now calculating. This was the tricksy part. “In exchange for a favor.”

“What would that be?”

“I want to leave Earth. See the stars.” She never blinked, staring the older man down almost fiercely. “I want to join the Alliance.”

“You have to be 16 to…”

“I’m 16 and three months. I think, anyway.” Her nose was dripping again, but she delicately took a tissue from the box in front of her and blew it. “I stayed small, but,” she waved a hand at her chest. “Not all of me. I can’t hide it. Not anymore.”

“You really want to join the Alliance?” Anderson hesitated. “You’ll lead us to them?”

“Like a shepherd.” He looked confused, as if her words didn’t fit the box he’d placed her in, and Jane lifted her chin again. “I do read, Anderson.”

He laughed. “Then as long as you can pass the admittance exams,” Anderson agreed. “Consider it done.”

“That easy, huh?” She scoffed, “It’s not like I don’t have skills.”

“You have the hard part down, at least what’s hard for most. And the Alliance is always recruiting. But you’re going to have to learn to respect authority. And gain some muscle.” Anderson frowned at her, then poured his own cup of coffee. “What’s your surname?”

Jane shrugged. “Didn’t ever need one. I’m either the Lost Boy when I’m working, or I’m Jane.”

“You’ll have to have a last name to join the Alliance.”

She tried not to look desperate. “But I have to leave Earth. They’ll come, otherwise, I have to…”

“So… Shepard then.” Anderson rose, and held out his hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Jane Shepard.”

Stunned, she took it, and he shook it twice, firm and warm. “Likewise.”

“I’ll just get the paperwork, and we’ll get to work. Will you testify?”

“I’ll snitch, all right,” she grinned, relieved enough to let slip the veneer of manners she’d tried to adopt for this particular mission. “Can I sleep here? I can’t go back. Not after disappearing on them.”

“You’ll be in protective custody, until the trial.” Anderson slapped his knee as he sat back down and buzzed the front office. “They’ll never see you, until then.”

“Good.” It came out as a near whisper. She let herself relax a little more, enough to take a sip of her coffee, only to recoil. “Ugh, what is this?”

Anderson curled his lip, “It’s what this office calls coffee, I’m sad to say.”

“No wonder you all look so… pasty,” She wiped her mouth on the back of her hand and grabbed the cream, filling it up to the brim. “It’s like drinking dishwater. Might as well be milk, in that case.” 

He laughed again, “Jane, I think we’re going to get along just fine.”

“Only as long as you let me make the coffee from here on out.”

“It’s a deal, Shepard.”

She smiled, liking the way her new name sounded. Like a leader. It would be good to be the opposite of lost, for the rest of her life.

From here on, she was going to fly.


	2. A Sleeping Princess

From orbit, Akuze looked like the utopia the brochures claimed it to be. Lush, tropical forests, and beautiful oceans and rivers inviting people to step into them and escape the humidity. When Jane stepped out of the shuttle the wet air hit her like a blast to the face. She let the warmth seep into her bones, enjoying the heat and ozone filled air.

“Welcome to Neverland, eh, Pixie?” Tonio grinned at her while she shouldered her pack and weapons and fastened them tighter around her waist. “Sure you can handle the weight of that big rifle?”

She just rolled her eyes at the good-natured teasing over her size and specialty – it was commonplace since training. She’d never grown much taller at all – though she’d filled out other places that made the others whistle when they shouldn’t have been looking. Fraternization rules were strict – and Jane hadn’t had much shore leave to experiment with civilians.

From what she could tell, civilians were boring anyway. Especially the ones that hung around the bars and restaurants near the Alliance bases looking to pick up soldiers. Flash ‘em a uniform and show a few scars, and they were yours for the night. She had little in common with people so easily impressed.

Not to mention looking like a kid meant she had a whole squad full of older ‘brothers and sisters’ desperate to look out for the little one, even when they knew full well she had graduated at the top of her class. She’d wanted it more, is all.

It was like having a family. She hadn’t had that ever. Even the Reds were just about her usefulness, in the end. Overall, she liked it.

She should have known it was too good to last.

As it was, Tonio was among the first to die when the Thresher Maws struck.

Jane had read about them, studying up on the so-called ‘alien’ worlds where so much of the threat to the Alliance had come from, once upon a time. She longed, during training, to have a chance with her sniper rifle, or better yet, a tank, to take one down. Maybe then her brothers and sisters in arms would really respect her…

The reality of the Maws was far worse than she’d imagined.

They spouted out of the earth – was dirt still earth in space? - like a geyser with teeth. They devoured everything in their path, as Jane and a handful of others scrambled back to the landing zone with the mystery of what had happened to the lost colony now solved. Barely armed civilians hadn’t had a chance.

Her friends nearly threw her up a tree, while they distracted the Maw, and she had her chance, at last, to take it down with her rifle. Her breath rattled her body as she aimed, and exhaled…

She fired, through what passed for its head. It recoiled, and she reloaded with sure fingers. Two more marines died – how many were left? She couldn’t afford to pay attention. She had to kill it-

Another shot, and another bellow that only seemed to madden it as it thrashed around in rage at the pain.

One more time…

The Maw dropped, and Jane flew out of the tree, towards her comrades – the only family she had in the universe…

But the light was fading from Yumi’s eyes already, and Jane couldn’t afford to cry.

They were all dead.

Fifty marines had died. Jane spent the following day recovering dog tags from the corpse of the creature who’d eaten them, the strips of metal still faintly glowing from the traces of eezo they’d been treated with, even amidst the gore and bile.

When the retrieval shuttle finally arrived, they found her there, looking lost, yet again, holding an abandoned helmet full of her comrades’ tags, covered with the fluids of a Thresher Maw.

They gaped at her, and she shrugged, with tears in her eyes. “I’ve seen worse.”

The story spread through the galaxy – some painting her as a villain, who sacrificed her entire team to survive, some making her into some sort of tragic hero.

She didn’t feel like a hero. The whole mission had been pointless, from start to finish. And now people -more people than just mazy-brained colonists who knew the risks and hadn’t even armed the proximity sensors – were dead because the Alliance couldn’t just let what looked like a dream world go, already.

The shrinks told her she had PTSD. She knew that – no one had a childhood like hers without a history of scars that didn’t show on their skin. But the bad dreams had a new red element to them now.

They sent her to N7 training, claiming her survival skills warranted the highest training they could provide. It was easy enough, after Akuze. She hadn’t expected to be promoted for surviving a massacre, or the tearful ‘thank you’s’ from her comrades’ loved ones. They were just strips of metal with names. “Then why did you collect them so carefully?” Her shrink asked.

She didn’t have an answer.

One child had hugged her. She hadn’t been sure where to put her arms and ended up patting their shoulder helplessly in attempted comfort. Tonio’s daughter, it turned out. She looked just like him.

She spent too much time arguing with her shrink about the commendations, about how she didn’t deserve this. It was only her blasted luck that she’d survived at all… she’d told them as much, but the officers hadn’t listened. She thought about quitting the Alliance for once and all – if nothing else she could work as a mercenary. She didn’t have to stay on Earth if she didn’t want to. Nothing left for her there, after all. Her shrink advised her not to be hasty, to take time and think about what she really wanted.  
She was trying to believe in good advice the morning that Captain Anderson called. Jane had been awake for an hour, at least, wrestling with her toothy demons and the ghosts of her friends. It took her a minute to roll over and pad over to the vidcom set on the wall.

“Shepard.” He waited.

“Captain Anderson, sir!” She snapped a belated salute in front of her vidcom, cringing at herself.

He laughed. “At ease, Commander.”

The title still didn’t fit quite right, but she tried to let it settle over her skin. She relaxed, as much as she ever let herself relax these days.

“I’ve got an assignment for you.”

If her smile was tight with nervousness, it was also eager. She needed out – away from the barracks, back into the stars she’d longed to see as a child. If she never saw Earth again, it would be too soon. “Just say where, sir.”

<PD>

Jane had the dream again.

_It was a clear one – from just before she’d left the Reds. She’d been dragged along on a handoff by the Boss, one that for some reason took place in a misty wood that the town was trying to reclaim. The fog clung to the trees, low and wispy, obscuring the branches and making the whole scene look something like out of that guy Escher’s paintings that Anderson tried to make her appreciate._

_Branches that led from nothing, like stairs that led to nowhere, twisting into a dimension that didn’t exist in the real world._

  
_She’d climbed a tree that day, and it was the reason she’d survived what happened next. While the Boss was shouting and yelling for her to fire, already, (like she hadn’t been doing precisely that) she’d watched half the members of the Tenth Street Reds die while her undernourished ass sat in the Y of a tree plinking off the baddies until she ran out of ammo and targets._

_The blood covered the ground; red, and black, and grey, and white wisps of clouds not blocking enough of it out._

_And then she wasn’t on Earth anymore._

_Now it was Akuze. The trees turned into Thresher Maws, whipped into a blood frenzy, swallowing her people whole. Only this time she was watching the colony that came before them – the one they were investigating – disappear, too._

_Again, she watched them all get picked off, one by one, until she was alone._

Jane wrenched herself awake, gasping and sweating. “That wasn’t how it happened.” Her therapist had told her she needed to remind herself when the dreams came.  
The colonists hadn’t died when her team was there. That, at least, wasn’t her failure. Jane threw herself out of bed, towards her desk, where a medal for distinguished service waited for dark nights like these. She yanked open the drawer and ran a hand along the once sharp edge of the embossed design, trying to find her breath as her sweat cooled in the processed air of the barracks.

She’d been alone, at the end, but she’d brought back her friends’ tags. That was something.

She still didn’t feel like a hero. But Anderson said she was.

She trusted Anderson. She glanced at the clock display. Zero four hundred and some change. She was due at his office in four hours… for an assignment. She could never tell with Anderson, whether he just wanted to have a friendly chat, or if she’d done something wrong that she was going to get reamed for…

She shook herself, frowning. Her commanding officer wasn’t her old boss. He was better. He’d told her they would protect her, before he even knew her.

Nobody had ever told her that before. You had to be worthy of survival, to run with the Reds, to warrant their protection. And that protection always cost something.

_Anderson had fed her up over the next few months, talked to her about his job with the Alliance. He hadn’t glorified it – she got the impression he’d gone out of his way to tell her about the mess-ups and missions that went wrong. Half-stoned on regular food and sleep in a real bed, it still sounded like the best thing in the Milky Way, and Anderson like a larger than life hero – even bigger than Blasto. All that and stars… seemed too good to be true, even with the things that could go wrong._

_She testified against her boss wearing clothes Anderson had bought her, with her hair cut by a professional instead of a knife and craft scissors, wearing shoes that weren’t a size too small and never dreamed of pinching. She testified, and it was over – her old Boss and his lieutenants locked away for good, or what amounted to it._

Jane closed her hand around the medal, letting the now worn edges bite into her hand a little too gently.

_Standing on the steps of the courthouse, she’d never felt so trapped and alone. The reporters shoving their Omni-Tools in her face demanded answers for questions she’d barely thought to ask herself, but Anderson had glared them down, wrapped his coat around and over her head, to block their view, and about-faced right back into the building and down two floors, where he’d bought her lunch. Safe._

Jane’s breath caught in her chest when she thought about it.

He’d given her a home and become her family, just when she was sure she was alone.

_They jogged together in the morning, building muscle up where there had been only skin and bones and hunger. He taught her martial arts and boxing, and she taught him some nasty street tricks about bringing down opponents larger than him. He let her hack his security system and laughed when it played the latest Blasto theme when he unlocked the front door. He took her to football matches and taught her to cook – just basic things, but even scrambled eggs tasted amazing to someone who’d lived on synth everything and junk food._

_And when the trial was over and done, he told her not to join up._

_They’d fought then, for the first time. For the only time._

_She’d gone right down to the Alliance recruitment office, and stood outside, angry and resentful and confused. And then Anderson had arrived after all, wrapped his arm around her shoulders, and they went in, together._

_Three months later she was in boot camp. She’d written to him about her tech classes being too easy and learning to shoot something other than a third rate rifle, and how much joy she found in sniper targets. He’d written back with tips on how to breathe to keep the sights level for just long enough…_

_With that memory, Jane shook herself back into the present, and walked over to her equipment locker, shivering. She punched in the code and took out his gift to her on graduation and slipped right back into the past._

_He’d showed her a picture of a Cerberus Skunkworks sniper rifle with the highest accuracy rating of any on the market. “Don’t ask me how I got it,” Anderson had laugh-warned. She’d asked anyway. “Pulled a few strings,” he laid his finger next to his nose. “It’s better for you to have something better than standard issue on your first assignment. It’s already registered to you, Shepard, and bio-locked to your signature.” He snorted when she rolled her eyes, “I know, you could fix that in a second, but… you’ll find most of your squad isn’t quite so… talented as you.”_ _“Talent.” She’d grinned, ferally. “I would have called it ‘a juvie record, if they’d been able to catch me’.”_

_“Not if you use your gifts for good now.” He was serious now. “Take care of her, Shepard, and she’ll save your life.”_

_She’d saluted, there in her crisp dress blues, feeling fancier than she’d ever had. A real Cinderella, if Cinderella had been Alliance. “Yessir.”_

_“At ease,” he’d laughed then, and wrapped his arm around her, leading her away from the arena and towards the officer’s mess. “Now, who are you taking to the Grad Ball tonight?”_

_“No one managed to beat me in the ring, so I’m going alone.” Anderson tutted, but Jane shrugged him off. After a minute, she said, “I’m gonna name her Zelda.”_

_“…you’re going to name your rifle?”_

_“Um, yeah?”_

_“Who’s Zelda?”_

_She’d grinned, “A sleeping princess.”_

_He’d hugged her and kissed her forehead. “That’s my girl.”_

His girl. He'd called her that. Jane sat, rifle in her lap, and took out her cleaning kit, dismantling it swiftly and cleaning each component, until her alarm went off, and she had to get ready to meet Anderson. She replaced the gun, with great reluctance, in the locker.

Where she was going, she wouldn’t need a gun. For a few days, at least. 

Zelda could sleep a little longer.

Someone should.


	4. Shadow Flying High

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title for the chapter comes from Ruth B's song 'Lost Boy'.
> 
> 'Then one night as I closed my eyes  
> I saw a shadow flying high.'

Jane knew that Captain Anderson had handpicked her for this mission, yet her mouth felt desiccated and her heart pounded as she stepped onto the Normandy for the first time.

It was a dream come true – a shakedown cruise of a new ship and the posting of a lifetime, for a commanding officer she trusted with her life. A bloodier name for a vessel had never existed, but it suited her past; pyrrhic victories for the both of them. Despite her uncertainty about her future, she wasn’t about to turn down this command, or the chance to fly back into the skies that fit her better than a tiny dorm in the barracks. It was something to live for, again, being worthy of such a vessel. The honor and privilege afforded to her – a nearly burn-out PTSD victim that people who hadn’t been there kept calling a hero – even now that it was years after Akuze…

Her therapist back on Earth kept telling her that how people saw her wasn’t her problem. She should only be concerned with her own self-image. What Jane thought about the so-called ‘hero’ everyone, including Anderson, called ‘Shepard’ probably wasn’t for polite company. It would probably help if she could fully think about this assignment as a reward, instead of her ‘one last chance’ with the Alliance. Could she be what they needed her to be? Could she follow through? Was the Alliance what she needed after… everything?

If she could be sure, if she could find an excuse to drag Anderson into his office and grill him as to his intentions… but that was impossible. While she toured the ship, he seemed fully preoccupied with the Spectre.

Nihlus. His name sounded exotic.

The rest of the names were familiar enough. It would take a day or so of repetition to remember them all, but a few lodged in place – first impressions made. Alenko. Jenkins. Adams.

The dizzy whirl of meeting her pilot – a man nicknamed Joker whose abilities she’d read about on the shuttle up – though she managed to insult him almost instantly upon meeting him. She’d have to do better – and whether he liked it or not, his condition would matter if they were ever forced to abandon ship. She tapped an instant request to the ship’s doctor, to be briefed on Vrolik’s syndrome as soon as possible. The rest of the crew blurred past her after that – some very experienced, others less tried, and none with the tragedies that haunted her career. Maybe it would help her keep her distance, her professionalism, knowing they couldn’t understand where she came from?

She couldn’t go back to thinking of her team, her crew, as family. In the Alliance, people died. She couldn’t afford the roots.

The tour finished up all too quickly, and her final conversation with Pressley whirred through her brain up front and center while she entered the comm room. It was obvious Anderson wasn’t telling her something. There was a Turian Spectre, of all people, on board ‘observing’. That old habit of doubting authority, coming back to haunt her… but she couldn’t trust all the time. Not even him. “Captain.” She snapped a salute that was a bit crisper than she might otherwise have bothered with if he hadn’t had company.

Nihlus.

She didn’t think her suspicion was just because he was a Turian. She’d seen them before, of course. There’d been a professor exchange in N7 training that led to her tech classes being taught by a woman Turian that reminded her of a bird of prey. Majestic, formal – and dangerous for a little mouse like her.

Somehow this one looked even more forbidding, though he answered questions easily enough. Jane fought a temptation to hack into his personnel file – Spectre had the best security anywhere, or so the rumors went. She didn’t have the credits or reputation to back up being that impulsive.

“At ease, Commander.” Anderson didn’t smile, and she followed his lead, barely relaxing her stance. “It’s time to explain why we have a guest.”

The debriefing lived up to its name – all too short before Joker interrupted and dragged the small group’s attention to their destination – Eden Prime, currently under attack, probably due to the Prothean beacon unearthed at the site.

Time seemed to skip after that – her first landing party, she grabbed the only two names she could remember to come with her. Alenko and Jenkins suited up and the Normandy landed.

And she found herself planetside, at drop site 2, Nihlus already deposited at site 1, presumably headed to the beacon. “He seems nice,” she commented wryly to her landing party. One of them snorted. ‘Moving faster alone’ sounded very badass, for sure, but it left her on the ground with someone who claimed to be a corporal, and a biotic lieutenant. Jenkins was just an idealistic kid – never mind that she wasn’t that much older than him. 

Her mind buzzed irritably with the briefs on Prothean history she’d scanned on the descent, but it didn’t seem to matter; now that they were all on the ground. Instead, she found another preoccupation.

Spectres.

After her youth – if you could call it that – she didn’t have much regard for cops or authorities. Even Anderson hadn’t really been a cop. He’d been in the middle of an odd lull in his career at the time he’d been put in charge of apprehending the Tenth Street Reds. Some sort of disciplinary action, she’d always supposed. Otherwise he’d never have been posted planetside.

Even while she admitted that she had no fondness for law enforcement, she didn’t think anyone should be above the law. Including the law itself.

She dragged herself back to the present – goldbricking was how people got killed, she heard her drill instructor yell in her brain – only to find herself surrounded by floating bladders. “What the…”

“It’s all right, Commander,” Jenkins grinned at her. “They’re gasbags. Harmless.”

Jane reached out and poked one. It drifted away, bobbing on the light breeze.

“Weird.” Alenko muttered.

All the readings were stable, her map was working, and her weapons were loaded. “Let’s move out,” she gave the order and moved to take point.

The idyllic atmosphere changed, all too quickly, with a body on a rock. “What happened here?” Jenkins’ voice strained. 

Jane marked the location for later retrieval, and rounded the corner, all too aware of the lead Nihlus had on them. A movement caught her eye, and she crouched, instinctively, “More gasbags?” Alenko whispered. Nothing happened, and breathing out slowly, Jane waved her team forward.

In a flash, the corporal was on the ground. Strange drones fired, too accurately to be controlled by organics, while Alenko slammed up against her rock for his own cover.

She pulled down Zelda, aware that she was overestimating how much firepower it would take to bring down a single drone, but not caring. Jenkins was dead. Whatever the hell these machines were could go to hell. “Sorry, Zelda,” she apologized aloud, to a noise of disbelief behind her. “Time to wake up.”

One, two, three shots and the drones were down. “We’re clear,” Alenko said, with a tone of surprise. “I have medic training…” and he ran to Jenkins, shoving her out of the way in his urgency.

Jane knew it was too late, even before Alenko folded in on himself. “We’ll retrieve his body with the others,” she heard herself say. Alenko’s helmet bobbed in recognition and they moved on.

The drones were everywhere, but after the first few, she brought them down with her pistol, not wanting to waste the ammunition on the little guys. Zelda’s talents would be needed elsewhere, soon enough. Especially since they were one man down on a three-man mission.

But they fought through, hill by hill, corner by corner, clearing a path for anyone that might have to come later. They heard gunfire, and Jane dove for cover, just as a single Alliance solider stumbled into the clearing, falling on her ass, and still managing to fire her weapon and bring down what looked like a foot soldier.

Jane found herself responding, “Soldier!” The woman climbed back to her feet, scrambled to cover, taking another drone down in the process.

She rushed to close the distance between them, taking out the last few drones before reaching the soldier’s side. “Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams of the 212.” Her eyes flicked back and forth between Alenko and Jane before settling on Jane. “You the one in charge here, ma’am?”

“Of the two of us? Sure,” Jane cleared her throat. “Report.”

Her story seemed all too familiar. She was the only one left, and Jane squashed down the pity and personal grief.

People died in the Alliance. Her pity wouldn’t serve Williams now.

More importantly, Williams had a name for the enemy, the Geth. Jane sighed, “If you aren’t injured, we could use your help, Williams.”

“Aye, Aye, Ma’am.” Williams’ face was grim, and her eyes were tired. “It’s time for payback.” She hefted her shotgun. “Just point me where you want me.”

The colonists were dead, except for a scarce handful that had managed to take cover. And now Nihlus was dead, betrayed by this Saren… who was yet another Spectre. This one abusing his position above the law.

No one should operate above the law. Wasn’t that what the 2020 Black Lives Matter Protests had been about? History wasn’t her strong point, but the world had been on fire after that, and some of the murals the protestors had painted were in the London Museums, taking the place of the looted art and artifacts that had been returned in the following years.

She was goldbricking again, and Jane, with a struggle, reined herself in. Alenko and Williams were looking at her, worried. “Ma’am?”

“Commander, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she heard her voice say, hoarsely, and knelt to deal with the next incendiary device that Saren had left behind.

“No offense, ma’am, but you don’t look fine.”

“Get out there and disable these, Lieutenant,” she snapped.

Alenko saluted, “Yes, ma’am.” He disappeared from her line of sight, while Williams crouched behind the railing, looking for a target.

Hands shaking, Jane completed her task, and activated her Omni-Tool for another scan of the immediate area. In the distance, Alenko’s device blinked off, disabled. There were no others, and she let her arms fall, and approach the final blinking target – their goal, and that of the deceased Nihlus.

“So that’s the beacon, Williams?”

“Yes, sir,” the soldier glanced up at it, resentfully. Jane couldn’t blame her – a world lay in ruin because of this artifact. Alenko approached it, stepping forward and then his whole body arched in pain. Jane acted without thinking, shoving him out of the way, and then she was caught…

_Screams and an unidentifiable noise echoing off every building – like if scratching a chalkboard could have a heartbeat. Fire. Destruction. Death. Redredred as the blood of her friends and crewmates. Black smoke smelling of ash and dust. A machine – a ship? – taller than the tallest building, descending onto three legs. She sensed a purpose – a dark one – and reached to understand it…_

It released her, and she fell, slumping to the ground as Alenko shouted into his Tool for an immediate retrieval.

And she knew no more.

<PD>

The beeping of medical equipment woke her, and she sat up, groaning.

“Hello, Commander.” Doctor Chakwas didn’t quite smile at her, as she scanned her again.

“What happened?”

“Do you not remember?”

“I… remember.” She closed her eyes. “Jenkins. Did anyone-“

“Yes. Services will be held when you are more stable, Commander.” Chakwas folded her arms against her crisp medical uniform. “You do realize that I am in possession of your entire medical file?”

Jane covered her eyes with both hands and said nothing.

“I am aware that this mission was difficult for you. I’m prescribing you sessions twice a week, until further notice, with the therapist of your choosing.”

“Are you available?”

“I can make sure I am.” Chakwas thawed slightly. “I wanted to give you the alternative of seeing someone who wasn’t under your command, if you preferred.”

“I’d prefer convenience,” Jane replied dryly. “I’m not particularly attached to any of the shrinks I saw after Akuze.”

“Well then, I will consider myself engaged.” Chakwas smiled – a real smile. “I appreciate that you are willing to comply without argument.”

Jane barked a short laugh, “I’m not a doctor. I trust the medical professionals around me to know better than I do what I need.”

“In that case, you’re a little low on Vitamin D, and I would recommend higher daily supplements.” Chakwas smiled even wider. “I think we’ll get on just fine, Commander. Now, do you want to talk about what you saw down there?”

Jane shook her head, “I… an entire colony was wiped out by the Geth. I wasn’t fast enough. If I’d asked fewer questions, moved quicker, I could have saved…”

“Is that likely?”

Jane snapped her head up so fast that it cracked. “What?”

“Would getting there a few minutes quicker have saved anyone? Anyone at all?”

“I might have saved Nihlus.” Jane stared at her feet. “He was betrayed by someone he trusted. Another Spectre. If I had kept up, maybe not cleared every structure…”

“You saved a half dozen civilian lives, to my understanding.”

“About that, I suppose?”

“Then you saved six at the cost of one. Seven, if you count Lt. Alenko.”

“But Nihlus was a Spectre, he-“

“Shouldn’t that mean he can take care of himself?” Chakwas’s eyebrows raised even higher. “The lives you saved were non-combatants, who would not have been able to defend themselves.”

Jane snorted, “They were running guns, Doctor. They weren’t defenseless farmers.”

“Did they know how to use them?”

Jane hesitated, “Hard to say.”

“Think about it.” Chakwas sighed, “People die, Commander. Even the best among mortals die eventually. You can’t save everyone.” Her lips twisted, wryly. “Then again, your psychological profile suggests that you’ll try to do just that. But keep in mind that you are fallible. Even heroes are only mortal.”

“I’m not a hero.”

“Poppycock.” The doors to the sickbay swung open and Captain Anderson stepped through, looking grave. “Captain.”

“I will need to speak to the Commander in private.”

“Of course, I’ll just be right outside if you need anything.” And then the good doctor was gone, and Jane was left alone with her oldest friend.

“I failed, Captain.”

“You did the best you could.”

“Not enough. And now a Spectre is dead, because I-“

“I heard what you told the doctor.” Anderson rubbed his face. “I also heard Nihlus turn down your offer of assistance. If it comes up, I’ll mention it.”

Jane tilted her head back, “Well, this will kill the issue of giving me Spectre status, at least.”

Captain Anderson shook his head, “We’ve been ordered to the Citadel, to report to the Council, and the Alliance Ambassador there. Are you fit for duty?”

“I’m fine,” Jane swung her legs over the edge of the bed.

“Shepard,” Anderson sounded grave, “You can’t save everyone.”

“But I should be able to save some.”

“You did. You saved-“

“A half dozen lives, I know.” Her throat tightened.

“You did your best.”

“My priorities were skewed. If I had kept up-“

“Nihlus would still be dead, and Saren would still be a Spectre.” Anderson hesitated, but fell silent.

After an uncomfortable moment, Jane asked, “Am I free to go, Sir?”

“Of course,” Anderson left before her, and Jane watched Chakwas re-enter, and nod her permission for her departure.

“I’ll forward my calendar to you as soon as I reach the bridge.”

“Very good, Commander.”


End file.
